Redemption
by Jesus and Me
Summary: The realm of Christ, and the realm of darkness. What will happen when these two realms collide?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He slipped through the alley, holding the 357. down so it wouldn't glimmer in the moonlight. He was almost to Jackson street. Now was the time for his sweet revenge. This wouldn't take long.

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Harold Jackson jammed another cigarette into his mouth. Pulling out his ever-present lighter, he flicked it on until the cigarette glowed nicely. Drawing in a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair. Things had mostly quieted down, but as a detective, he was almost always busy. If he didn't have a report to write, then there were calls to make. Yes, he couldn't remember the last time he sat down with a good book.

Suddenly, the phone rang, jarring Harold back to the present. Groggily, he leaned forward and picked up the receiver. He recited his little speech from memory, "Detective Jackson, at your service. How may I help you?

"Hey, Harold! This is Frank, from the police department."

"Oh, hey Frank! How's it going?"

"Not too good. Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Harold leaned forward in curiosity.

"Well, last night, there was a murder."

"Oh, great! Where?"

"1238 Jackson St. A guy by the name of James Manfield. His wife found him this morning. Had 2 holes in his chest."

Harold sighed and said, "You sure it wasn't a suicide?"

"Well, I thought of that too. But, the lock was broken and there were muddy footprints leading to the bedroom. Whoever did it was pretty sloppy about it."

"Why didn't his wife hear the shots?

"She was in Vermont last night. Came home this morning to find him in the bed."

"So, why you telling me?" Harold sighed. Of course he knew. Another case.

"Well, I was wondering…"

"Alright, I'll be right over."

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He flipped up his laptop and clicked on Internet Explorer. Surfing his local news sight, he saw an article. He clicked on it.

_A local man was found shot this morning in his bed at his 1238 Jackson St. residence by his wife. Two bullet holes were found in the man's chest. The type of gun used has not been released by the police at this time. The man's name was also not released. But it is considered a homicide at this time, Sheriff Frank Johnson said earlier today._

_A slow, evil smile spread across his face. He had done what he wanted to do. He had his revenge at last. Yes: mission accomplished. _

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When Harold stepped in the door, he immediately noticed a woman sitting on the couch. She was reading a black, leather-bound book which Harold immediately recognized as a Bible. It looked just like the one his mother used to read from to him every morning before he left for school. It was a nice book, filled with nice stories, but HOW could it be true? All that stuff about God loving us. How could there be a loving God, when there was so much hurt and pain in the world? Yes, he was better off without it.

"Hello, Mrs. Manfield!"

"Oh, hello, Sheriff Johnson!"

"I didn't know you where here. You know, we would have paid for a hotel room if you didn't want to stay in the house."

"Oh, well, thank you for the offer, but I just wanted to be with him." At that point, tears began to edge around her eyes.

"Would it be alright if we would look around again?" Frank asked.

"Yes, but, who's your friend here?"

"Oh! This is detective Harold Johnson. He's here to help us catch whoever did this awful deed."

"Hello, Detective," Mrs. Manfield sighed.

"Hello, Mrs. Manfield. But please, call me Harold."

"Alright, Harold, if you will call me Jenny."

"OK. By the way, I'm sorry for your loss. And I want you to know that we will do whatever is in our power to catch the person who did this."

"Thank you! I know that God has a plan in this, but it's sure hard to see it sometimes."

At that point, everyone fell silent. This lasted for about 30 seconds until, finally, Frank broke the silence. "Uh, well, we'd better get started. Where should we start, Harold? Do you want to go up to the room?"

"Well, actually, I'd like to start with a few questions, if that's alright, Mrs. Man- Ahem! I mean Jenny." They all smiled.

"Yes, that's alright."

"Well, tell me all about last night all the way up to this morning. Spare NO details."

Jenny sighed, laid her Bible on the stand, leaned back on the couch, and began, "Well, yesterday, I left for Vermont. My aunt died on Wednesday, and I went to Vermont for the funeral. Well, James was going on a business trip on this morning, so he decided that he was just going to stay home so that he could go on the trip. Well, I left yesterday morning and made it to Vermont that afternoon. The funeral was at 4:00, and I headed for home that night. Well, I got home this morning and noticed James' car in the driveway, which was strange because he was supposed to leave this morning. So, I headed inside. Once I got inside, I noticed a muddy boot print trail leading to the bedroom. I thought James had made it. I called James' name, and he didn't answer. So, I looked in the laundry room, the bathroom, dining room, and the kitchen, calling all the time. I thought it was strange, because he didn't answer. So, I headed for our bedroom. I saw James lying in bed, and my first thought was, 'Oh, no! He overslept.' But then, I noticed blood on the blankets, and then I began to get alarmed. So, I went up to him, and noticed two bullet holes in his chest. Then, I called 911." At that point, she burst into tears.

"Uh, maybe we should go up to the room."

"Okay, Harold."

They walked across the long shaggy carpet and headed up the old, creaky stairs.

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He leaned back against the graffiti covered brick wall. Pulling out his cigarette, he flicked on his lighter until his cigarette burned nicely. Ah! He breathed in the rich, cocaine filled smoke and smiled. He knew the cops might be onto him, but he didn't care. That old thief James Manfield ought to be killed. Yep, he had his revenge.

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"Hey Frank! Bring that light over here. I found one!" Frank and Harold had been searching for a finger print for a few minutes now.

"Where?"

"There. See it? That smudge."

"Oh, yeah. That looks like a fingerprint all right. But what is that dark stuff around it?"

"I can't tell, but take a sample." A few minutes later, in the corner by the bed, there was another dark handprint. He couldn't figure this out. It was as if the person who did this didn't really care whether he was caught or not.

"Frank, I found another one."

"Great! And look what I found." Frank held up a little plastic bag with a large, shiny shell rolling around inside.

"What kind is it?" Harold asked.

"It looks like the kind I have for my

357. That's just a guess, though."

Harold chuckled. With so much evidence, they would be able to find this killer quickly. That was for sure. They would find him.

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End file.
